


Instants

by starraya



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/F, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starraya/pseuds/starraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of Fridget domestic bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five Years On

**Author's Note:**

> So . . . this happened. Hopefully, when I have greater time to write, it'll become a drabble series.

When Bridget slowly began to wake up, the first thing she did was wish she hadn’t – her head throbbed somewhat tremendously. The second thing she did was stretch out her arm and run her hand over the other side of bed. It was empty. Before she was forced to open her eyes, rise and investigate, she heard Franky’s voice from what sounded like the doorway of their bedroom.

 

Franky’s voice was a whisper. “Are you awake?”

 

“Unfortunately,” answered Bridget. She wondered how long she’d slept in? A brief moment of panic seized her, before she remembered that it was a Sunday. Thank God. No work.

 

Still reluctant to rise, she heard rather than saw Franky make her way across the bedroom.

 

“Do not, under any circumstances, open the curtains,” the psychologist warned.

 

"I’m not. Just getting some fresh clothes.” It was then that Bridget realised where Franky had been.

 

“ _How_ have you been out running?”

 

“Some of us can handle our grog, Gidge.” Bridget could hear the playful smile in Franky’s voice.

 

“Some of us have wives who ply them with the stuff.”

 

“I was simply carrying out my duty.”

 

“And what was that?”

 

Franky laughed. "To get the birthday girl pissed. Thoroughly.”

 

Bridget groaned at Franky’s words. Yesterday had been Bridget’s fiftieth birthday.

 

“Please,” she pleaded, “don’t remind me.”

 

“What you don’t wanna know about the brilliant moment you started dancing and –”

 

Bridget cursed, loudly. “All I can remember is a swarm of faces and never not having a glass in my hand. Oh, and some really fucking good sex. I can’t remember who with though.”

 

“You think you’re so funny,” Franky quipped as Bridget heard her come near Bridget's the side of the bed. Bridget opened her eyes and peered blearily up to see Franky place a glass of water and a packet of aspirin on the bedside table. The physiologist smiled in thanks before watching Franky choose out a change of clothes from the bedroom wardrobe opposite the bed.

 

“I’m going for a shower,” Franky said as she made to leave. When she reached the doorway, she glanced back at her wife, nestled in the bed sheets.

 

"Y’know,” Franky offered, “if you need help washing that hangover off . . .” 

 

"Give me five minutes.”

 

"What? Until you fall back asleep?”

 

“Oh, you’re think you’re so funny, Doyle.” At that Bridget slowly sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water. After she took a sip, she looked straight at Franky.

 

“Five minutes.”


	2. Running

“That’s it,” Bridget announced before taking a deep breath, “I’m walking the rest of the way.”

 

“O come on, it’s only a few streets,” Franky said, after she stopped next to Bridget.

 

“No.” Bridget pressed a hand to her aching side. “No more.” Why had she thought it would be a good idea to suggest joining Franky in one of her habitual early morning runs. _Why?_

 

“Where’s your fighting spirit, Gidget? All your usual _‘don’t give up hope’_ crap to the inmates? You’ve got to practice what you preach.”

 

Bridget took a long sip of water from the bottle in her hand and mock-glared at the woman opposite her.

 

“I thought you wanted me to push you,” Franky said, grinning. Under Franky’s teasing tone, there was a touch of concern for the other woman. Franky studied her watchfully. Whether they walked or ran the rest the way didn’t matter. Not really. But it was too much fun not to carry on the spirited line of conversation. It was a nice break from the running.

 

“I thought you liked a _challenge_?”

 

“I do,” Bridget replied, then at Franky’s pointed look, added “I married you didn’t I?”

 

Franky gasped playfully. “And here I was thinking you only said yes so you could have more moments with me like this. Moments when we’re all hot and sweaty.”

 

“That is . . . a bonus. But I can think of better ways than this to do such a thing.”

 

“You’ve a one-track mind Miss Westfall.”

 

“I’ve have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Talking of tracks. Running . . .”

 

Bridget shook her head. “Walking,” she corrected.

 

Franky held up her hands in a gesture of compromise, “I was just going to offer to see to all those aches and pains you must have after we’ve run back, but . . .”

 

Bridget tilted her head slightly to the side as if weighing up the offer. “Alright. But it’s going to be a gentle jog.”

 

“Fine, fine. Gentle. We’ll keep an equal pace. That good?”

 

“More than."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of total plot, but I'm so stressed over exams all I seem to be able to do it write fluff.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you never knew what you were missing something until it was right in front of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff.

"I'm pretty sure you've plumped that cushion five times already, Gidge."

  
Bridget stepped guiltily back from the sofa, hands held high in mock-surrender.

  
"She's a kid. She's not going to notice the cushion arrangement or that everywhere is dusted and hovered to an inch of it's life," Franky said.

  
"We needed a Spring clean."

  
"It's Summer."

  
Amused, Franky watched the older woman make her way to the living room window and open the curtains. Peering out of the window at the street outside, the psychologist hovered there. Franky grinned. She couldn't remember seeing Bridget this flustered. Try as she might to dispel it into housework, Bridget's nervous energy radiated from a mile off and she was more fidgety than usual - which, Franky thought with affection, was a feat.

  
All morning she had not seemed to sit still, constantly rearranging and sweeping and dusting, darting this way and that way around the house. They had planned a picnic in the local park, an easy outing, open and neutral space. They wouldn't be staying in the house long. Still, Bridget, cool and composed Bridget with her soft, sweeping hand gestures and calm, measured voice, had fretted. And Franky's heart swelled with love at the thought. She remembered her own anxiety, not completely different from Bridget's, but not completely similar, before she had first met her sister.

  
It had been months since that first meeting when she had nearly bolted, filled with fear and a longing for a childhood she'd never had, before the her sister's sweet smile melted her heart, and many more meetings had followed. Her sister had become more comfortable and freer around Franky, and the seed of resentment, of jealously, whatever it was inside Franky's chest when she had first seen her sister and father together, had vanished as quickly as it had bloomed.

  
Now her sister would run, with a squeal, into Franky's arms when Franky visited, bubbling over with excitement and pride to show Franky a new painting she'd done at school or a gap in her gum from a fallen tooth. Franky's face never failed to light up.

  
Sometimes you never knew what you were missing something until it was right in front of you.

  
Her and her little sister had become close. He never said it, but Franky knew her dad was more than glad at seeing his two daughters together, smiling and laughing and hugging. Her relationship with her father had lost its tenseness, but had not gained any feel of familiarity or affection. Some absences are too big to ever refill. Some hurts too deep to fully heal. But there was, if not trust, an element of understanding between her and her father now. They shared a love for her younger sister - a desire to care for her and protect her.

  
After several visits to her little sister, Franky finally felt clear in one thing: she had family. And now felt like a good time for what they're doing, her and Bridget. So, after a moment, Franky moved to stand behind Bridget and wrapped her arms around the blonde's small waist. Bridget saw Franky's smile reflected in the window. Bridget's lips curved as Franky murmured into her neck.

  
"Chill out. It'll be fine."

  
Bridget gave a little unsure hum in response, before stepping slightly forward out of Franky's embrace and turning her head around to face Franky, but the question she went to ask died abruptly on her lips at the sound of the doorbell.

 

"That'll be them," Franky made her way to the front door, but paused in the doorway of the living room to look back at Bridget.

 

"Ready?"

 

Bridget nodded and smiled.

 

Franky smiled back. After all this time, she had a family. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much loved.


End file.
